Beautiful
by Intricacy
Summary: She needed to redeem her father's mistake for her mother's dying wish. He needed to discover his true history behind the throne admist deceit. Dig deeper. Play the other character. Turn around, dance in the shadows. Maybe some riddles don't have answers.
1. Prologue: A Letter

Beautiful

_Every story I've read speaks of beautiful women and handsome men, but I've never been beautiful, nor have I ever felt it. No--I am the only condemned person in this world to be the ugliest thing there is. And so when he asked me, I was complied to say no._

Just a story, with elements from several different fairy tales (including Beauty and the Beast and Cinderella), but with a major spin-off and sort of twisted. I don't own those elements.

Other chapters, I ultimately promise, will be much longer. I don't believe they will be in this format, either.

Hope you enjoy what I've got, and remember--please review! Frankly, I'm one of those annoying authors who update only in response to reviews, so the more reviews, I guess, the faster the update!

Enjoy!

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**March 14(?)--Rewrite! Yehp. About the, what, fourth story of mine I'm rewriting? Ah, well, there's not many chapters to this to rewrite. There won't be much change, mainly that she's not at Aquien's.**

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PROLOGUE

_I probably stole this story from one of those other girls. This wasn't my destiny; it was theirs. Those lovely young ladies dressed in flowing silk gowns and tender skin was supposed to have a life like this. But it isn't theirs. It was, apparently, mine. Granted, they probably had many stories left to partake in, and I had none--none but this._

_This never was supposed to happen to me._

_I'm not the princess he's supposed to marry. I'm not the breathtakingly beautiful young maiden who was lost in the woods and near death that he'd rescued. I'm not the soft-spoken yet intelligence lady to help him rule the country._

_Rather, I'm a common villager with no direction in life who wasn't supposed to live past the age of twelve. The only thing that's so special about me is that I am especially ugly._

_Since my birth, I've always been an ugly thing. Scrawny and bald, I was those many years ago. The doctors believed that I was going to die, for I was that weak and shriveled in appearance. My hair did not grow in until I was almost two, and I could not walk until I was three. But the first word I had ever uttered was when I was one. I spoke my first complete sentence when before I could walk._

_But that did not matter for the most part; many of the townsfolk often scorned by hideous stature. "Look at her!" they'd whisper to each other, not caring if I heard or not. "The color of those eyes! Never have I seen a more revolting dark brown. And her hair! Its sickly yellow color is only barely better than her eyes, and so straw like! Have you seen her wrists? It looks as though her hands are ready crack off, so thin they are!"_

_Indeed, I have never made it to being plain. I was barely ugly, in fact. I was hideous. So thin that you could see my bones directly underneath my skin, which was a pale (so pale, it was clearly unhealthy) white that was dark beneath my eyes._

_They said I wouldn't live to see daylight for more than twelve years._

_I proved them wrong. I'm sixteen._

_My home is the library, and the librarian there, Aquien, is my only friend still alive. His father, Jequile, had left a few years ago. My father passed away when I was a month old, and my mother--she is rather old now--is the only one who takes care of me. I had an two older brothers and an older sister, but they had all died some way or another--and all of them healthier than me. There was no doubt that I would die someday, too._

_But it hasn't happened yet._

_My entire wardrobe is filled with attires of well-worn rags. Never in my life had I worn anything more fine than the rough materials found discarded. Never in my life have I dreamed of even feeling the texture of silk._

_So now I ask you, how is this my story?_

---------------

_I will not address you by name, for I no longer know how to speak or think your name properly. To refer you by title, or with intimate relationship? I know no more. I will merely address the questions that you have proposed to me. You asked me, I seem to recall, "Why?"_

_I will now tell you of my story, from the very beginning, on that terrible day in which my twisted fate was revealed to me, and the reasons of why you have ever met me. It will do no good for me to write you this letter, knowing that you are to read it, for it will only make me awkward and conceal parts of it. Thus, I ask you to pardon me when you find awkward parts to my story. I will write this as it is, without any implication that you will ever read this._

_I suppose I must start sometime in some place, and the start of the day is as good as any. I was barefooted, like I always was, but it did not mean that I minded it at all. I enjoyed feeling the earth and stepping in the soft soil that soothingly wormed its way around my toes. Of course, I often stepped on more painful things such as fallen branches and pebbles that littered the area, but I did not care. I would wince and continue, for life will not ever stop for someone for the mere fact that bark had insulted their feet._

_The small bell chimed as I pushed open the light door to the library, announcing my entrance. Aquien, elevated on a ladder to reach the top shelf, looked over his shoulder and smiled as he saw my entrance. "Sina!" he said, smiling broadly, as he put the last book back in its appropriate place and climbed down the ladder. "You look more beautiful everyday."_

_He knew quite well as I did, and everyone else in the village, that his statement was a complete lie. But yet he still said it everyday, and everyday, I pointed out how wrong he was. Then he only smiled and chuckled, and the subject was ended. And today was no exception, and after his small laugh, I asked him if any new books had come in yet, like I always did. It was routine. It was custom. It was tradition._

_"No, not yet, I'm afraid. But we're expecting a few books next week," he said. He looked at me and waited for an answer. I only smiled. "Was there something that is in your fancy?"_

_"Mmm," I mused, running my hand over the spines of the books. "Not particularly--but a self-beautifying book wouldn't hurt," I said teasingly. Aquien laughed, but insisted that I was not all that atrocious. My response? More laughter. There was never any need to feel self-conscious with Aquien. Though with his dark hair that sometimes dangled in front of his gentle, sparkling brown eyes and the fact that he was rather handsome, he felt the same compassion for books as I did and through personalities, we got along perfectly._

_Maybe that was why he had befriended me; that my intelligence was the only one that matched his in the town, and he found those with shallow minds frustrating and quite useless, resulting in his own solitude with the books._

_"But no, I lied," I admitted after I had ceased my laughter. I turned to look at the books and pulled one of them out, fingering its cover. "I had been wishing to read a particular book." I looked up at him and saw him staring questioningly at me. "Perhaps... the works of Homer?" I proposed hopefully._

_"Ah," he said, nodding. "The Iliad and The Odyssey. I'm afraid that our library cannot get ahold of those treasures." He often referred to books as precious treasures, but I turned away and blushed, spiting myself for speaking even when I knew that Aquien's family was not exactly the richest. Knowing his personality, Aquien would likely strive to obtain those works, despite their financial status._

_I shook my head. "It's quite all right--I can satisfy myself with what you have to offer here," I said in an attempt to ensure that he would not cross the budget for my pleasure._

_"Have you not read all the books of this library already?" he said smilingly. As I opened my mouth to respond, he shook his head and continued, "No, no, it's quite all right; I have been thirsting for those particular books as well."_

_I sighed. It was exactly as I thought would happen; he would buy those books, for my benefit, and conjure an excuse as not to make me feel poorly. I tried several more attempts to divert his interest, but in vain. At long last, I admitted defeat, but solemnly promised never to speak to him again if he was struggling to live for my sake. He assured me that it wasn't the case._

_We exchanged views on the latest book that I had read; he had read it quite some time ago and had been waiting for me to complete the novel to discuss its plot and characters. It was often times like these that I thought about my own character, his, and mother's, for I did not know many other people very well._

_But soon, our discussion was finished and he put away the book and bid me a good day and reminded me to return tomorrow, like he always did. It wasn't as though I needed reminding, however, for I was so fond of the library that words cannot find an apt description for it._

_I arrived home and closed the door behind me. Mother immediately fretted over my health, despite the fact that her health was much worse than mine. I promised her that there was nothing wrong with me, and if there was, I would report it to her. Only then did she calm._

_Starting to continue my daily chores--which was considerably less when compared to the amount other girls with my fortune, or lack of, had--I was interrupted when Mother called me over._

_"Child," she whispered, trying to climb out of the straw bed. I quickly came to her side and insisted that she remain lying down. "I must tell you something."_

_She did not speak until she was certain she had my complete attention Only then did she continue, "I am weak... I am dying. Hush, child, do not interrupt me. You are quite aware of my deteriorating health, and you will do well not to deny it." She quieted for a moment and closed her eyes. "I have a secret that I've kept for sixteen years now."_

_Sixteen. Sixteen years ago, I was born. I frowned at the implied suggestion._

_"Your father did not pass away, merely because he passed away. He was murdered, condemned for a crime of his. A sin. You must resolve that sin, child. You must--!"_

_Her voice broke off at this and I looked at her, my eyes wide. My heart pounded loudly in my chest and blood flowed strongly in my veins at this new information, quite similar to how I feel while reading a fascinating story... only so much stronger. "What sin?" I prompted hurriedly. "What sin?"_

_Here, she let out a weak smile and said, "Once I tell you, I must die."_

_A tear tore out of my eyes and slipped onto the floor, splashing silently. "Then don't tell me," I whispered. "I would rather not know."_

_"Would you not want your beauty back? Would you not want to be able to bear children?" Mother said to me. When I told her I cared naught for beauty and no man would marry a woman such as me, for my personality differed from most, she said, "I am to die anyways, and I must tell you now." She quieted me when I opened my mouth to interrupt. "See to it that no one is aware of this secret, understood?"_

_I clamped my mouth shut and nodded, tears staining my face. I could not summon the energy to raise my arm to wipe them away; indeed, I felt utterly useless, as though my body were made of lead in place of flesh._

_"You must be the nurse of a member of royalty. You must help her grow in strength and knowledge and success. If you will not do this for yourself... do this for your father. Do this for..." Her voice started to trail away as her grip on my hand grew weaker. "Do this for me."_

_Her last words were a mere whisper, barely audible. But I heard it._

_And I died on the inside._

_---------------_

_I departed that day, heading to the castle of the country, after burying my mother and packing whatever I had that belonged to me. It was not much. I left without much of a word, and my only words were directed toward Aquien, for who else would worry about my departure? I begged him not to mind me, that I must depart without a word, and that he not think about my reason. Naturally, he agreed, but cautioned me to take care, and gave me a bit of food. This I declined, for he barely had enough to eat himself, but he refused to hear me out and said that the journey was several day's worth and the least he could do for himself was to ensure that he had aided somewhat in my safety. It was all he could do._

_He wished he could do more, he said, but he couldn't. I never asked him to help me any more, nor did I want his help, for he was much too kind and thought of others before himself. I felt spoiled and self-centered when I accepted the bread he had offered me. And, with great difficulty, I departed._

_Never had I felt worse._

_I hardly survived that trip. It was cruel, terrifying, and odious, with heart-wrenching memories constantly replaying in my mind. Not even my sleep spared me of such haunting scenes as my mother's departure. But alas, after two weeks of hardship, between living on the ground and uncomfortable inns, I made it to the castle, and I will skip over my numerous difficulties to spare your precious time._

_I apologize; I should not have written that. Sarcasm, I believe, is evil in a sly sense. I do not mean to slight you through my stray comment._

_It was difficult to become a caretaker of anyone, let alone a child of royal birth. For who was I, but a beastly young woman with such a weak appearance? Surely I would not have the strength to become a nurse! And this I believed in myself as well, but once recalling my mother's last plea, I set my mind._

_I promised them knowledge of books. Indeed, this was true, for I have memorized many of Aquien's books. I offered the children the understanding of plot, the depth in characterization, and the hidden meaning behind those books that Aquien and I have discovered together. After much struggle, I was accepted._

_But only on the lowest level, for they did not trust me immediately. I was first to tutor some noble children, of whom belonged to rejected knights and nobles that have been imprisoned. But I worked my way up; I proved myself worthy._

_I need not say more, I suppose. You met me there in the castle. You remember the rest of the tale, in your own point of view. You thought me hideous. You thought me repulsive. You never spoke a word, but I could tell. And frankly, I did not mind._

_You see now? If I could have helped it, I never would have exchanged my simple, however hard, life for one of breathtaking ease and beauty. I hope you are now aware of the difference. I hope you are now aware of why I rejected not only you, but everything else that you thought valuable._

_Please do not respond to my letter. From this point forward, I would much rather sever all connections and memories we have. I caution you now: should you send me a letter, I will burn it, unopened. I ask you not to look for me, nor to think of me ever again. I would like to live my life the way it was before it was so rudely disrupted._

_With the greatest sincerity,_

_Kiersina L._

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I looked at the letter steadily before dipping my quill into the inkbottle. Hesitantly, I signed my name at the bottom. I hoped that my point was clear enough to him; I never wanted to hear of him, see him, nor speak of him again. I wished him gone from my life. It sounds, and seems, cruel, naturally--but it is truth. And truth is never cruel. It is merely honest, and honest is merely reality.

I paused, debating my ideas for a moment, before setting the quill down and waited for the ink to dry. While I did, I prepared my candle beside me and looked into its small, flickering flame. It reminded me of the brilliant lights that were in the ball.

I shook myself, telling myself to forget about the hated life I had lived in the past several years. I was traveling back, now. I was doing the same as I had done several years back--only this time, to the opposite destination. I had never told him where I had lived, and in this manner, I would be safe.

The bright red sun was setting, only halfway visible in the horizon. It was by pure luck that I had managed to come to the inn at the precise time, and I was thankful that I would have a bed tonight. After so many pampered years of living in the castle with soft beds and warm sheets, I recoiled slightly at the idea of sleeping on the dirt floor. But I would have to grow accustomed with the idea once more, I knew; such luxuries were sure not to last.

Though the poor inn with low hygiene had scratchy sheets and a hard, uncomfortable mattress, it was better than dirt and straw. Turning away from my observation of the bare room, I lifted the smaller candle and let the wax drop onto the envelope before pressing my seal into it. An ordinary seal--not that fancy one that he had bought me. I briefly wondered what he would think of my seal when he received the letter.

After carefully extinguishing the small candle flame, I crept downstairs and caught the attention of the innkeeper. "Sir?" I said. "Might you have a messenger? I hope to send a letter out."

The innkeeper turned to me with that intense look that he had. Feeling uncomfortable, my eyes flickered downward for a moment before I forced myself to lift my eyes to meet his. "It's dark," he said, his voice gruff. "I will have a boy send your letter tomorrow, when the sun breaks."

I considered the deal. My letter was of no urgency--well, not to me, at least. I supposed he would be quite anxious, but that was none of my concern. To a plus, having the letter sent out tomorrow would give me extra time to lose him, should he come after me, despite my warning.

Nodding, I smiled. "That would be perfect," I said, holding out the letter and removing a few gold coins from my purse, dropping it onto his hands. "Thank you."

"And who might this be delivered to?" His question caught me just as I had turned my back upon him, about to head back up the stairs.

I chided myself; had I forgotten to answer such an important question. "To the prince," I replied evenly. Just as he started to speak of how difficult it would be to have a letter that reached the prince, I continued, somewhat spitefully, "Simply say that a hideous governess with excessive pride sends a message. He will understand." I paused for a moment. "And please do not reveal any information of me, it that is not too much to ask."

"No, that is quite fine," the innkeeper said hastily. I smiled in thanks before turning up the stairs to go to bed.

Purposely turning away from the mirror as not to catch my reflection, I blew out the larger flickering candle and lied in bed. I could not get used to the coarse material that had been used for a long while as it irritated my skin.

_This is better than dirt_, I told myself silently.

I tossed and turned that night, and I could not get any sleep. My mind constantly returned to the curse that I had been forced to endure. I bit my lip, recalling that I had written only half of it in the letter. I'd left out a significant part:

_And you must find true love for your complete beauty revealed._

I sighed. What did that mean? With the last thoughts of confusion filling my mind, I fell asleep, and the days of my castle life came forth in my dreams against my will.

-------------------------

"This is Madeline. Her mother died in childbirth while trying to give birth to her brother, and her father is currently paying time. You are to take care of her," the man instructed as he opened the door, revealing a small girl with lush dark brown locks. Her hazel eyes were wide as she stared at me, not saying a word. I nodded to show that I understood, and the man closed the door, leaving me alone with the girl.

The first few moments were awkward. Deciding to end the silence, I squatted down to her height and said, "Hello, Madeline. My name is Kiersina. You can call me Sina, if you like."

She did not respond and continued to stare at me.

I tried another tactic. "How old are you, Madeline?" Once again, I received no response. "Do you like to play with your dolls?" Silence. "Can you read?" When I was met once more with the same expressionless face, I sighed and stood up and looked around the room. It was rather bare.

"Do you play with the other children, Madeline?" I asked her, pulling away the curtains to allow sunlight to stream in. The gardens were large, but it lacked activity. It was much too still, even for my taste. "I remember when I was young. I didn't have many friends; my only friends were the books. Still, I have only one friend who is still... still alive."

She didn't respond. I didn't expect her to.

"Would you like me to read you a book? My favorite book when I was your age was, I think, _The Qu_--"

"Are you going to die?"

I snapped my head over her and looked at her, surprised at her sudden outburst. She looked at me with those same wide eyes--not ones of mocking, but one of sincerity. I smiled quietly at her childlike behavior and said truthfully, "I was supposed to when I was twelve, but I'm sixteen now and I have not yet passed. But everyone will die someday."

"I'm going to die, too."

It was not a question; it was a statement. I frowned and looked at her. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"The doctors say that I'm sick," she replied with the same blank expression. "They say I'll die when I'm six."

"They said that to me, too," I said, a soft smile on my face. "But I'm still alive."

The little girl nodded and said, "But you're ugly."

I had to suppress my smile at that; I had always known that I was hideous, and hearing it did not hurt much. After all, I had been hurt too many times before to be affected anymore now. "I am," I agreed, "but I was born ugly. You are born beautiful, so you will always be beautiful."

Madeline did not respond and only returned to her blank state. After the short conversation, however, I figured this silence was due to the fear of death. She'd likely been brought up with the knowledge of an early death. I shivered to think that she had shared my fate. It was a fate that I would wish on no one.

I tried to think of ways that could be used to help her cheer up. I recalled how I had felt when I was young--absolutely tortured. I refused to leave the house and lapsed into a time where I was completely dumb and could not speak, but I had an outlet: books. They healed me. I could only hope that they would heal this young girl as well.

I tried to think of a story that would divert the idea of death from the little child's mind. I searched my mind for any memory of a book that fitted my wanted description: something appealing, something magical. Something that showed her that there was more to life.

The corners of my lips lifted as I recalled a light, lifting children's story of life. That night, I searched the library and asked around before finally finding what I had quested for: _The Velveteen Rabbit_.

The next day, Madeline was quiet as ever. I held the small book in my hand and sat beside her. "Would you like me to read you a story?" I said. Her eyes flickered up and stared into mine, blank. I could not openly admit that I felt somewhat intimidated and frightened by the lack of feeling, but I managed a small smile before sitting down beside her and started to read.

I had memorized this particular story, having read it countless of times during youth. As my eyes were diverted from the enthralling words of the book, I looked at Madeline's face. Her expressionless face started to melt away and I thought I caught a flicker of interest spark in her eyes. However, by the end of the story, my hopes of her exiting her tightly closed shell was quickly dashed.

She turned away, not looking at me. I bit my lip; did she not enjoy the story? I had sworn she did! "Madeline, what's wrong?" I said gently to her, placing my hand on her small shoulder.

She didn't respond for a moment, but she did, in the end. "I'm not Real," she said quietly. "I'm going to die, like they say I will."

I sighed and shook my head, kneeling down to be at the same height as she was. "No, you won't die," I insisted. When she wasn't convinced, I continued, "Would you like to know why? Because _I'm_ going to love you so that you _do_ become Real. And after then, I'll _keep_ on loving you."

She looked at me doubtfully. "You wouldn't," she said, as if stating fact.

"I _will_, and I _am_." I smiled as I saw her expression lift somewhat and, for the first time, I caught a smile start to tug at the ends of her lips. "Can I have a hug, then, Madeline?"

The smile _did_ erupt then and she stumbled forward into my extended arms. When she pulled away, she looked surprisingly more happy than she was previously. I smiled encouragingly. "Now, would you like to go outside and play with me?"

I felt like such a child, asking her that. I felt as though I were five again, only this time, I was naïve of the discrimination of those who were ugly. I took her hand and nodded, egging her on. "Come; we can play in the gardens and pretend."

"Pretend what?" she asked, a foreign look crossing her face.

"All sorts of things," I explained encouragingly. "We can pretend that fairies are coming down and unicorns are everywhere. Maybe we can pretend that there is a terrifying dragon and a prince that will rescue you!" When she didn't look very persuaded, I asked her, "What do you wish the most?"

She quieted considerably and I wondered briefly what it was that I had said wrong. Her eyes were downcast and her lips moved, her words scarcely heard and rather inaudible. "I want to see my father."

I faltered at her request, biting my lip nervously. I did not wish that she think of me as a person saying words simply to please; I wanted her to _trust_ me, to believe in me. I could not deny her her first request, her greatest want; but would she really want it afterwards? To get to a specific cell was hard enough--with its huge maze and all, designed to capture enemies who had attempted to let their allies free--and perhaps the environment would not suit the small, innocent child very well.

After all, it could further deepen the pain.

My encouraging smile slipped slightly as her hopeful gaze started to disappear, looking downcast. I sighed and shook my head. If this was what she wanted, so be it. "I'll try," I whispered, nudging her gently. She looked up at me and found my sincerity. "I'll do my best."

"Would you?" she asked, apparently not ready to believe that I would do such a thing. I quickly assumed that no governess or maid had ever thought of her as another person with wants and needs before. When I nodded, she continued, "Do you promise?"

"I promise," I agreed. I saw a true smile cross her face then. Never had I seen something more elating. Her eyes sparkled with not only hope, but delight and joy. The grin spread across her face as she looked up to me with excitement. I knew then that I couldn't let her down.

She was considerably--surprisingly--pleasant and happy the remainder of the day. We collected flowers and I told her I'd press them for her before we returned inside, where I taught her the alphabet.

She was a quick learner and had memorized the first few letters of the alphabet that day. I moved on with numbers, telling her to study them while I was away. She agreed and held the sheet before her, her brows furrowed in concentration. It lifted a smile upon my face before I slipped out the door.

It was difficult trying to organize a session with Madeline's father with the prison head. He was far too serious of a character and seemed to constantly spite himself for not being able to achieve a higher rank and looked down at those below him. Naturally, he did not stand with a good first impression, and despite my numerous attempts, he seemed to stand firm.

I tried to get him to see from Madeline's point of view, from my point of view, and the point of view of the prisoner. He cared for none of that, so I was resorted to direct my argument at the head. He seemed none too happy with that.

"Do you have a mother?" I said angrily, crossing my arms, speaking my words with such a fire that it seemed impossible that a person with my frail and fragile health could possibly emit. He, too, seemed startled. "Do you have a father?"

"Of course," he replied pompously, sniffing down at me, which he seemed to do every several lines. It annoyed me greatly, but I supposed that was just what he was aiming for.

"Are they dead?" I demanded bluntly.

He seemed shocked by my lack of propriety, regarding him in such a low manner--with such a dishonorable question. When I didn't relent, however, he was forced to respond. "No," he sniffed. I bit my lip at his repeated behavior.

"If they were killed, would you miss them?" I said, glaring him down. He had not yet started to quiver under my gaze, nor did he seem uncomfortable. He was, however, affronted by it, but at least it was something.

"I hardly think that a person with such a low class as yourself can ask a person of higher status--like me--such a personal and offending question," he declared.

"And _I_ hardly think," I said, raising my voice, "that a person who _supposedly_ is of high rank could do something so unreasonable--so hypocritical to their rank--as not to allow a child see her father. Just a few numbers, sir!"

"I do not have to respond to you," he said, sniffing once more. He then turned in the other direction and opened a book, suggesting that he was now ignoring me and that I should leave.

I, however, was not so easily disgruntled and persisted, slamming my hands onto his desk. "Have you ever suffered, sir?" I said. When he opened his mouth to respond, I cut him off. "No, don't answer that. You _didn't_ suffer. You've never had your parents stripped from you and people looking down at you like you are the biggest disgrace to humankind, so don't even _try_ to act like you do. Now, let her see her father, and I shan't bother you again."

Apparently, the idea of my final departure seemed to please him greatly as he nodded his head in thought, considering my last words. Finally, he relented, saying as long as he never had to see me again. I did not mind at all, for I found him repulsive and would rather not see him again, anyways. I bid my thanks and I returned, finding Madeline still staring at the numbers that I had left for her.

I sat down next to her, a smile on my face. She felt my presence and turned to me, looking at me strangely, turning her head over to one side. "What happened?" she asked, anticipating something.

"I have a surprise for you," I said. Her eyes widened as she tried to peer around my back, but I quickly shushed her. "I don't have it with me, but I'll show you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," she said, nodding, returning to her books. I smiled slightly and maneuvered myself to face her from the opposite side of the table, where we resumed the lesson.

That night, after I tucked her to bed and left to my own small room, a woman who I have seen but never met came up to me, introducing herself as Mya. "I have known Madeline for quite a while," she confided to me, "and she hardly ever speaks and never smiles. Two days with you, however, and it is like magic; life for her seems possible once more."

I smiled softly and thanked her for the compliment. We became friends then.

The next day, I told Madeline that she was due for the surprise. She nodded and followed me out as I brought her to a place that she never had before: the dungeons. She shivered and I draped my cloak around her, wrapping her around several times.

"I don't like this place, Sina," she said to me, tugging on my sleeve. "Can we go back?"

"Hush, Madeline," I said. "You will like it soon enough."

And she fell silent since then, holding tightly on the basket of food that I had told her to bring. Finally, when darkness suddenly seemed to rise, I lit my lamp, shining on an old stone passage way that reeked of odor with rats scampering around.

I felt the small child cower against me for safety and I comfortingly put an arm around her. I peered at the numbers on the rotting wooden plates above the doorways. Suddenly, I was ignited with an idea.

"Do you like treasure hunting, Madeline?" I asked her. She looked at me strangely and hesitantly nodded. I beamed. "Excellent! What we're doing is something like that, and we only have numbers to make our way. Do you see those yellow numbers on the top?"

She looked up, and sure enough, she spotted the plates with painted yellow numbers. Nodding, she looked back at me.

"Okay, the first number is: One, Three, Six, Two," I told her. She nodded and craned her neck to look up, peering back and forth.

Soon, she grew a little more excited and she scampered a few feet ahead of me, looking for the numbers that I'd dictated for her. At long last, she stopped and pointed to a certain hallway. I nodded approvingly.

And so it continued. I gave her numbers and she found them. After the third time, we arrived at a row of cells and I prepared myself to give her the last number--the cell number.

"Six, Nine, Three, One, Eight," I said. She looked down the long row of cells and pointed to the last one. I nodded and reached for her hand, which she slipped into my larger one. Squeezing her small hand, I walked farther down, holding the lamp ahead of me.

Prisoners looked up at us, not having seen any light--or anything, for that matter. They winced, blinded by the flame, as they waited for their eyes to adjust. Some of them looked at us eagerly, hoping that we would see them, but we only passed by their cell, finally stopping at the last one.

The man there was dressed in dirty torn rags, his hair grown and tangled that he looked rather primitive. He was lying on the cold floor, turned the other direction. I cleared my throat, but he did not move.

My heart began to pound; he was not dead, was he?

My fears were released, however, when Madeline took a step forward and leaned into the bars. "Father?" she whispered, her sweet, child-like voice drifting as a redeeming angel would in hell. He turned, his eyes wide. Suddenly, with renewed energy, he scampered up and clutched the bars before him.

"Madeline," he whispered, his voice cracked and hoarse from lack of use. "Madeline--is it you?" His dry hands clutched his daughter's soft and tender ones, tears dripping from his face. "Madeline--it is you!"

He felt her face, and she did not mind the dirt that smeared because of it. I held the light a little further toward them so that he could fully appreciate his daughter's appearance. It was, after all, nothing to be ashamed about.

However, when I moved, he noticed me--something I had hoped wouldn't happen. I had wanted the entire session to be focused on him and his daughter, not on me. But he did and asked for my name.

I did not have the chance to speak when Madeline answered for me. "She's my maid," she said happily. I found it odd that the child was so ecstatic in such a damp and dark area. "She's the one that brought me here."

He turned to me, his face full of thanks, glory, and relief. My appearance did not seem to bother him at all. "How can I ever thank you?" he whispered.

I smiled sadly in response. "By showing love to your daughter," I said, "and making her smile. I've been here but naught for three days, now, and I know enough to understand that she hardly smiles." He turned to his daughter once more, but I continued, "Madeline, do you not have something to give to your father?"

She looked up at me, confused, but suddenly remembered the basket that she was clutching. Nodding, she held up the basket with two arms before her, smiling proudly. "Look, Daddy!" she said, the formal term of 'father' forgotten. "We brought you food!"

I looked at the father once more and noted how skinny he was--perhaps just as bad as me, or maybe even more so. Piece by piece, we fed the food through the iron bars into his cell. Looking into the basket, Madeline said, "That's all."

"No, it's not," I said, reaching in. I pulled out a piece of white cloth with a poorly stitched design with loops and knots on it, handing it to her father. "Here," I said, as he took it gingerly. "Madeline's first embroidery."

"But she is naught but four!" he cried, looking at his daughter.

"I had her do it yesterday so you would have a keepsake," I said. "But think not of what has been done, but of this moment. Do not waste it, I beg of you."

He understood my meaning and directed all attention onto his daughter. I held the lamp, but managed to sink back into the shadows even so. I watched the display of love, the small child holding hands with her father as he whispered comforting words to her, be it or be it not that they may one day be fulfilled. I tried my best not to cry, for crying results in sniffs, which would ruin the moment altogether.

When I noticed the wax of the candle had started to dip down low, I quietly mentioned it to them and he nodded, reluctantly letting go of his daughter's hands. Madeline protested for a bit, but I said to her that perhaps we could come again next week. I saw the surprised and hopeful expression on her father's face and I nodded sincerely. I may have been ugly and chided at my whole childhood, but at least I had a parent.

I couldn't bear to have Madeline lose that from her life as well.

Two months passed, and Madeline had managed to look healthy, a permanent flush on her cheeks from being outside constantly, demanding to go to the gardens even for studies. I had relented after making her promise that she would not be distracted. She had, of course, agreed, and could now read numbers and could write the alphabet in her sloppy handwriting that was somewhat improving everyday.

And, as I had promised, once a week, I brought her downstairs to her father. No longer was she afraid of the dark, asking me if I could take her outside one night to count the stars.

But when the two months were due, I was unsuspecting pulled away from my lesson. People had noticed Madeline's dramatic improvement under my guidance and assigned me to another child--or two, to be accurate. Two young boys who were rather rebellious.

I had, of course, protested at first, but I could not change their minds. To them, Madeline was someone who was fated to death, and my care would be wasted. And above all, she was a girl, not a boy.

Madeline was upset as well when I told her as gently as I could, but I told her I'd promise to try and meet her to bring her down to her father once a month. Under the prospect of knowing that this was not the final good-bye, she managed to stop her tears but didn't lighten her tight grip on me.

But we had to depart, and depart, we did. My quarters moved to a place that was closer to the two boys that I was to look after. I didn't like them all that much. With my hideous appearance and the fact that I was female, they regarded me as below them. It was rather annoying at first, and all they seemed to care about was fencing, duels, and, well... battles.

It always started out, seeming as though they were giving me the most impossible tasks, trying to test my abilities. I wasn't one to succumb, however, and I would prove to them my power, despite my frail appearance.

The boys tugged on my hair a lot and ran in circles around me, making jokes and laughing. Sometimes they would sing songs specifically to ridicule me, but I never showed any form of resentment at all. Sometimes, I had managed to smile in amusement, which had puzzled them endlessly.

At night, I would let out all my aggravation with a book. After a good night's sleep, I would walk around the gardens, refreshing myself before I was to take care of the two rowdy boys. My constant composed behavior never failed to baffle them, for all their other governesses and tutors were driven away with insanity.

They refused to learn anything I tried to teach them, until one day, I stopped persisting them with lessons and allowed them to act as they wished. They were surprised by my retreat but took full advantage of it. The next day, I started the second part of my plan.

I proposed that they imitate kings of opposite enemy countries of some sort. They enjoyed the idea and allowed me to continue. "You, Wilfred," I said, referring to the older of the two, "are angry at Frederick for something and you want to declare war." He nodded approvingly and opened his mouth to shout at his brother, but I stopped him. "If you're in two different countries, how can you talk to him? You must write him a letter, of course. Then it will be carried on horseback to Frederick."

Wilfred frowned at my idea. It was apparent that he wasn't fond of writing.

"Frederick, you will write a response. First, you will try and solve the problem, and you two will enter into a bargain. However, if that doesn't work--" I paused for dramatic effect. "You will declare war."

They grinned simultaneously at my suggestion and readily agreed with it. After all, the idea of being kings was much more exciting than simply dueling. I had personally thought my intention rather obvious, and I was thankful that the two of them were still young enough not to notice a thing.

That day, I aided Wilfred in composing his letter. At first, he wanted to declare war on the silliest of things--saying that Frederick's country wasn't giving them money, or that Frederick's nose was too big. I had to reason with him and helped him put his ideas in aspect with the real world--of how many wars we would be engaged in at once!

He seemed interested then. I seized this as an opportunity to teach him of politics. First, I spoke of the most interesting schemes that occurred in history that councilmen had formed. That had caught Frederick's attention then. I saved all the strangest things, however, slipping them in randomly in my rambles of the money involved in war, ranks, and duties to maintain their interest.

The game idea that I had suggested became more than that. It started to become their everyday life. As the days wore on, their letters grew more sophisticated and reasonable. I took the letters from one for a few hours--in place of the weeks it would take on horseback--and gave it to the other afterwards. I incorporated a few of their friends as well, engaging them into a full-fledged political stance: allies, enemies, wars, meetings, truces, and debates.

It advanced and I made them use numbers to calculate their treasury. All of them were given a set amount of money and their income and a set price of war. Their arithmetic improved as well as their calligraphy, when I suggested that fanciful lettering appeared more sophisticated and came from wiser people.

I was lucky that the boys had lessons from tutors other than me. After all, I was hardly the person to teach them fencing and combat. With my weekly spare time, I visited either Mya or Madeline, switching every other week. And, true to my word, I brought the four-year-old child down to see her father once a month.

The boys--and not only Frederick and Wilfred, but their friends involved in the game as well--had learned to respect me. I smiled when I saw them think of those of female gender in a different light--not as one to look down on, but more of as an equal. While this did not pass very well with some, I was praised--once more--for my ability to teach the boys who had refused to learn.

Indeed, they hadn't seemed so horrified later on at what they had been tricked to do. They called me sly and chided me for it, but it ended in smiles and laughter. My initial dislike with the two boys had melted away, turning into something lighter. They made me laugh with their active personality, while Madeline had made me smile with her sweetness.

I realized then, how different my life was here from the previous one.

I had proven myself here. People respected me, despite my lack of beauty. It was a new feeling.

Before, I only had Aquien. Now, I also had Mya, and all the children--and their parents--who looked up to me.

And the number was constantly growing. By my first year, I had already been designated to over ten children, all of whom had been reluctant at my leave. And yet, every month, I managed to meat Madeline and bring her to see her father, now at the age of five and had almost memorized the way to her father's cell and back.

Soon enough, I became accustomed to having to depart quickly after setting children on the right track--which was my new job. No longer was I simply a nurse, governess, or caretaker. I was to bring the twisted children around by a hundred eighty degrees. However, the departure was always hard, no matter how many times I had to suffer through it.

In actuality, all my departures were completely different from each other. Different personalities, different bonding, but same situation caused a different effect altogether. Nothing could ever be duplicated.

The people who were aware of me grew, and Mya remained my constant friend. With those who knew me, some respected me, others shook their heads at me. But my name did grow, and soon even royalty had heard of my name.

I was "that ugly girl with a magic touch to bring direction to the lost and sense to the defiant."

And I didn't mind at all.

* * *

Published in 1922, however, this story has no set time period. Let us now ignore the years!

Thanks for all those who have reviewed! Yes, this has been a combination of chapters 1 and 2, but they were both prologues so I didn't see why I couldn't shove them together.

Please review!


	2. Prince of Arrogance

Thanks to all those that have reviewed!

I introduced the other main male character in this chapter. Pushed things along really quickly, I think, because the first chapter was a drag. I'm thinking of doing another companion story from the male character's point of view (probably going to be called _Hideous_), too, because he's cursed as well.

Uhh... I did NOT just give away that spoiler.

Enjoy the story! Please review!

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**Last Chapter Rewrite. After this, it'll be the actual story. Fitting some sort of Anastasia/Aladdin in here, yes? Beginning & End change. Middle content the same.**

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CHAPTER ONE

Prince of Arrogance

My eyes flickered open as the sun crept over the distant horizon. I did not have a very restful night, considering the given state of my dreams. They did not help my current situation any.

With a weary sigh, I reluctantly pushed myself out of bed somewhat groggily; I was tired, having tossed and turned the whole night long. A memory crossed my mind; the letter would be delivered today. He would likely recieve it in a day or two; hopefully, the messenger would get lost or get into some spot of trouble, making the delivery time even longer, giving me time to escape.

I looked over to my small bundle of items, considering the trip I was to take. It consisted of one set of a formal dress, a blanket, food, and other small necessities, such as gold. I had not taken very much; perhaps he had not even noticed my disappearance yet. No, that was wishful thinking--I slept in the gardens one summer night and he was already frantic.

I sighed. It was more than likely that he's already looking for me. Running my fingers through my hair that had tangled somewhat overnight, I walked over to the bundle and lifted it. It was not extraodinarily heavy, given its size, but it did not hold the weight of a feather, either. My inkbottle and other such items insured that.

As I crept down the stairs, careful as not to wake any of the other residents, I slipped my hand into my pocket. I felt a few coins. I had plotted for my escape for the past several months, saving up my profit to the maximum. He hadn't guessed my intentions. Perhaps he thought that I was saving for a dress.

I would never.

"Going so early, miss?" the innkeeper said, disrupting me from my thoughts.

I turned around and gave a feeble smile. "Yes," I admitted. "I still have long ways to run."

He nodded; he was not the sort of man to try and pry more nights and more money out of guests. "Then best of luck to you," he offered.

"Thank you." I turned toward the door before stopping, looking over my shoulder. "Sir, about that letter... might you have your messenger speak not to the prince at all? Not about the inn, nor of me?"

He grinned crookedly. "Trying to keep your identity secret?" he said, nodding. "Very well; I understand your situation. That will be done."

"Thank you," I said graciously once more, entirely thankful. A weight in my chest was lifted as I exited the inn, starting my way. My tender skin was easily pricked and a blister started to form over the course of the day. I ate the minimum portion that I could, satisfying my hunger to only one half from being content.

I was not fortunate enough to be given a view of another inn, forcing myself to camp in the woods. There would be no inns in these woods, only in clearings; I would have at least a good three days without a bed before I exited the line of trees.

Sighing, I laid out my blanket and lied down upon it. But the coming winter was starting to pick up, and the air grew chilly, forcing me to huddle beneath the blanket and lie against the fallen leaves that crunched beneath me every time I rolled. The broken branches irritated my back and my head longed for a cushion.

But wasn't this the life I had bargained for? No more servants, no more gossip, no more political power struggle, no more unneccessary manners. I longed for a simple life, similar to the one I had before I left to cancel out my father's name of badness. I would have to grow used to it sooner or later.

With that thought, I opened myself to find the best of the worst, and I drifted into a gentle sleep.

Until the dreams came once more.

----------------------------

I watched amused as young Jonathan chased after a butterfly. In my view, there was nothing wrong with this child. His enjoyments were merely found in items and objects that were normally considered to be apart of the female world, but his habits were quite good. I found no reason to try and restrict the child from his delight.

We were out in the gardens--one of Jonathan's favorites. In fact, where others have looked at him with scorn through his requests, I looked at it with great approval. He cared not for what others thought of him; such self-confidence could not easily be found. A delicate balance--not over-confident, and not under. Only just.

It was springtime again, and the flowers were in bloom. He distracted himself and directed his attention onto the newly budding lilacs, touching them tenderly. He had a way with plants, I had noticed. Jonathan was great friends with the gardeners--for who else would play with the little boy with interests of flowers instead of swords?--and had managed to bring life back to a brown, drying plant that I swore was already dead.

A small smile crossed my lips as he nursed it before looking at another plant. "This is a honeysuckle," he told me proudly. I nodded in agreement. "Do you know its medical functions?"

I frowned slightly and shook my head. "No, I'm afraid, I do not," I admitted.

And Jonathan then launched into a lecture of its uses, taking great delight in educating me something. I couldn't help but smile at his childlike innocence and the switch of the roles we were supposed to play. When he was done, I commented on his brilliance, causing him to smile broadly before a dragonfly caught his eye.

I did not follow him, allowing him to have his freedom, but I kept a close eye as to make sure he did not land into a spot of trouble. Likewise, I was not aware of the person _behind_ me, so say, until words were spoken.

"Are you the maid who supposedly cures children of their mental instabilities?"

I turned, startled. I was met with a man with loose brown hair that hung over his eyes and broad shoulders. From his dress, I instantly assumed that he was of high rank, with the cape draped around one shoulder and lining of purple. I looked into his hazel eyes and could not decipher anything.

"Supposedly," I told him.

He smirked then, looking over my shoulder to glance at the boy, happily hopping after a grasshopper. "I see what they have said is true," he said. I was about to comment my thanks when he continued, wrinkling his nose in disgust, "You are an ugly thing."

I instantly pursed my lips and frowned, crossing my arms. Such a biased character! I have met such personalities in my youth, but then, they were children my age and had lacked maturity and compassion. Never had I expected such words to come from an adult--and a noble at that! Granted, he was quite young--perhaps only twenty at most? But an adult nonetheless.

He either did not mind my silence or ignored it completely. "Your efforts on this child will be futile," he told me as if it were fact.

"So they have told me for the past several children I was to guide," I retorted.

Once more, he did not care for my reply and said, "I can see you are failing in your task already."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "There is nothing wrong with the child."

This time, he heard what I had said, and looked at me strangely. "Nothing wrong?" he repeated, thoroughly surprised. "That boy enjoys picking dandelions and daisies while he should be studying combat techniques! It is not natural!"

"At least _he_ has sensitivity," I said angrily, defending the unaware child who still delighted himself in dangling his feet in the pond, "unlike some people I have the misfortune to meet." I looked at him coldly.

He understood my meaning. "And what will flowers do a man good?"

"He would make an excellent doctor," I said crossly. "He knows more of herbs and plants than you would likely learn in two lifetimes."

He let out a chuckle, but his eyes showed no amusement. "He is naught but eight," he said.

"I am naught but seventeen," I replied, "and I have made children smile when more experienced nursemaids have failed to do so."

"You take pride in that, do you not?" he said, sneering at me.

I regarded him coolly. "And do you take pride in making others feel insignificant? In trying to ruin a child's fantasy realm?"

When he did not respond, I turned away and looked at the sun's position in the sky. It was time to head back in. I returned my gaze to the high-ranking stranger and said, "I would now bid you a good day, should I have wished it on you. But I do not, and likewise, I cannot do so."

I did not wait to see his reaction, merely turning to take Jonathan by the hand. He happily skipped ahead of me, tugging me along, telling me about the fish that he'd seen in the pond and how many butterflies he had caught. I smiled at his excitement, pushing away all thoughts and memories of that unpleasant stranger.

That afternoon, when Jonathan was taken away to his other studies that I could not aid him with--in short, sword fighting--I wandered around aimlessly, coincidentally meeting Mya.

"How has your day been?" she asked me as we stopped to talk. I suddenly reflected on that stranger with a cocky attitude and my frown deepened. "Not good, I take?"

I shook my head. "It is not bad," I replied earnestly. "I have only met an arrogant nobleman to whom I hope never to cross paths with again." Without my notice, my eyes clouded in angry memory.

"There are a many arrogant noblemen in the castle," Mya said, shaking her head. "I've ranted on to you about that before; I'm quite certain you don't want to hear it again."

I smiled. "Quite true--I'd really rather not."

Then, Mya's frown deepened. "I seem to be forgetting something," she said, tapping her chin lightly in thought. "It's something important, I know... but I simply cannot remember it!" She sighed, exasperated with herself, then shook her head, giving up. "Oh, I'll tell you when I remember."

"Is it urgent?" I asked her.

"I can't recall," Mya admitted, a sheepish grin on her face. "I must depart now; this feeling is burning a hole through me!" She grinned and turned to leave. When she was just about to turn a corridor, however, she stopped and came back toward me. "Oh, I remember now! There's a ball!"

I blinked. Of all things, I certainly did not expect this. "A ball?" I echoed. I did not see how it concerned me; many balls were always being held about, but I never attended, nor was I invited.

Mya nodded. "Yes; the young lord Jonathan is to attend," she said. "These balls are specifically designed for young lords and ladies to watch the older lords and ladies dance--to educate them."

I nodded in comprehension. I mentally reschedule my lesson plans.

"You are to attend as well."

The words didn't seem to sink in at first. I suppose they were so foreign that I simply could not recognize them. They finally did, and I gasped in surprise. "Me? Attend a _ball_?" I said. The idea was ludicrous!

Mya didn't seem to know what was so strange about it. "During these balls, a few maids are needed to keep order. You were among the chosen." A smile flickered across her face.

A small excitement rose inside my chest. I would be attending a _ball_. I had heard all sorts of stories about it, of course--of how wonderful they were, of how atrocious they were. I didn't know what to expect, but I couldn't wait to experience it.

Then my hopes were dashed and dread overcame as I recalled one of the major reasons why I had never attended a ball. I was _hideous_. Every inch of skin stretched across my body had the absolute worst coloring any man had ever seen. No one could ever truthfully positively comment on my hair, eyes, and my appearance in general. I was not even in proportion!

"Worry not of the attire," Mya said quickly, likely recognizing my thought. "I will aid you. You will not be required to dance, only there to stand chaperoning."

With that statement, my excitement and dread were at once gone. Chaperoning? Well, that was quite boring indeed!

I pushed back the negative thoughts. I was still attending a ball, was I not? I would be able to comment on it from first-hand experience. Oh, if Aquien knew! "You'll fit in gloriously," he'd say, trying to support me, "but are you quite sure that you wish to go? It doesn't seem to suit you."

"I really must be going now," Mya said, glancing behind her. "I will see you later."

"And you, too," I said in a departing greeting as she turned to leave once more. I, too, continued in my own way with my own direction, thinking about it. I wondered about Jonathan's reaction to the news...

----------------------------

"Must I?" Jonathan whined.

I smiled. I had only just told him of the ball, and it was already apparent that he was reluctant. "Why ever not?" I said, trying to keep my voice sincere.

"It'll be boring," he said, fiddling with his quill, "and--and, there'll be girls."

I chuckled at his immaturity. "I'm sure it'll be interesting enough, at least. And if it's boring, you can make fun of it that way." I paused. "And what can you complain about girls?"

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "They're far too strange," he explained to me. "They complain over the tiniest speck of dust!"

Though Jonathan was fond of flowers and plants, he did not mind being dirty at all; after all, being dirty was just another part of gardening. He was quite used to it. Granted, he did know how to dress nicely, but cared not for appearances. It was only natural that he would find the girlish behavior strange.

"And they pick flowers," he continued. "Don't they know it kills the flowers?"

I smiled. "They will learn in time," I said, though I secretly doubted it. I had seen enough air-headed ladies around with nothing but a beautiful face to cover their empty-headedness. "Maybe you will meet a girl who isn't like the rest."

"I doubt it," Jonathan said.

I sighed. "I'll be coming, too," I said to him encouragingly. "If you can't stand them, just tell me."

My attendance seemed to lighten his mood considerably, though not quite enough. He still dreaded attending--rather the opposite of myself--though the case was not as severe as it was before.

And, in a whim, the next week flew by as a bird does in the sky during the arrival of winter--only a tad bit faster than their migration. And before I knew it, Jonathan was sent to another room to prepare and Mya had dragged me into her own room, coming out of her wardrobe with mountains of dresses and gowns piled on her arms before she placed them with the growing heap on the bed.

To my extreme surprise, Mya seemed actually excited, perhaps more so than me. For one who constantly complained about the shallowness of the common court lady and their obsession over fragile appearances, she was uncharacteristically anxious about the upcoming ball.

I questioned her about it and she only waved my comment aside. "A ball is a social hour," she explained to me, pulling out a necklace from her jewelry box. "Granted, those women manipulate that time to gossip and spread more rumors, and balls are perhaps the most fashionable way to do it, when everyone is dressed in their best apparel. But one can have fun, and that is what matters."

I personally thought that there was, perhaps, a man that had caught Mya's eye, but I did not voice this thought aloud and let her continue in her frantic search of proper clothing. It seemed that balls held by royalty were the most important, especially ones such as these--so that the future noblemen and noblewomen would be able to hold a fantastic ball that exceeds standards.

And luck has it that the only ball I would likely ever attend would be among the most important ones there were.

Mya had already chosen her gown and it was laid aside, but she did not cease searching for a gown for me. "It's useless," I pointed out to her. "With my given appearances, I would turn the most beautiful gown into something disastrous. A simple gown, I think, would work best."

"I will not have you as the laughing stock among those ladies," Mya said crossly as she continued tossing a few gowns aside and comparing me with others.

I sighed. "Being hideous in a beautiful gown would make me even more of a laughing stock," I told her. What I said seemed to make some sort of sense to Mya, for she immediately put down the dress she'd been holding up, a thoughtful look crossing her face.

Slowly, she agreed with me, and together, we put away the dresses. I sympathized with her efforts, but I leapt with joy at the same time. I had dreaded wearing a heavy gown with excessive decorations and scratchy lace.

But it seemed that Mya had a dress in mind, for she otherwise would not have been so easily swayed. From within her closet, she pulled out a brown dress with a deep red lining that was substantially simpler than all the other gowns.

"It doesn't fit me," she explained, handing it over to me, "for I am not tall enough. If it fits you, you may keep it."

I could tell from the moment the gown was transferred to my hands that it was expensive. The material was soft and silky and felt like water slipping through my hands. After a little more persuasion on Mya's part, I finally changed into the dress.

I did not glance at the mirror at first, for I knew I would appear atrocious. But the dress felt splendid; it was light and airy with a flowing feeling and fit me perfectly. But one turn toward the mirror ensured my ugly appearance.

The colors, somehow, had managed to clash with my physical features: sickly yellow hair and muddy brown eyes and deathly pale skin that seemed ready to flake. I agreed that it appeared better than some of the lighter colored gowns would have, but the dress would have looked far better on a person with Mya's looks.

I was lanky. I could not deny that. While the dress fit me vertically, it was too wide horizontally. Mya pulled out a sash matching the lining of the sleeves and tied it around my waist rather elegantly, proving just how skinny and frail I was.

Too skinny.

Unhealthily skinny.

It disgusted me.

I took my hair and tied it into a simple bun and left it like so, despite Mya's protests. And, once more, I denied the shoes that Mya had, for none of them fit my large feet.

"You can't wear slippers!" Mya protested, exasperated. "No one wears shoes like that to balls, and they go horribly with that dress! What if someone should see?"

I smiled slightly. "Then I'd beat them black and blue until they believed themselves dilusional."

To that, Mya only huffed and muttered something that I did not catch, but I smiled in amusement anyway. To divert her attention from me, I brought up her own apparel. It worked and by the time she was done, she was far more gorgeous than me.

But what was not to be expected?

"I think I understand why some people would rather not attend a ball," I said feebly as we finally finished with her hair. "Far too much effort, pushing, poking, and fretting."

"But the outcome--" Mya started, but I gave her a pointed look, gesturing to my own outcome. She fell silent and found nothing to say to that, only continuing hurriedly, "I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself at the ball, anyways. You never have been one to allow others to influence you."

I smiled. "A little too true," I admitted, and we walked toward the ball, while I fidgeted all the while.

Luckily, as I was not a true attendant, but rather, a chaperone, I did not need to go through what would have been a humiliating grand entrance and was allowed to slip in quietly through one of the side doors. It turned out there were only one or two other chaperones that stood around, keeping an eye on the children as they danced, plus the dancing instructor.

The young lords and ladies were awkward at first, standing around and shuffling their feet. One even went so far as to hide behind as many adults as he could. I could not help but smile.

When several dances were over, however, the first young lord plucked up the courage and walked toward a girl that he had been watching the whole time and asked her to dance. She giggled and agreed. Afterwards, more and more young children took over the dance floor. I was briefly reminded of a plague.

Mya, who had been dancing all night, came toward be breathlessly and started naming people. "That is Lord Phillyglas, and he hates it when people make fun of his name," she said, pointing to a man with a round belly. "Oh, Good Lord, there's one of the most obnoxious ladies I have ever met. Countess Viera, quite beautiful, isn't she? Perhaps the most beautiful here. She has the absolute worst attitude!"

Indeed, Countess Viera was amazingly attractive. Her gentle red curls were piled to the top of her head and her pale blue eyes sparkled with amusement. Her complexion was a fair white--not at all dark, but not as pale as my own skin. I noted to stay away from the vain character.

"Oh, look! There's the royalty, Prince Adrian, III," she said, nudging her head toward a brown-haired man who seemed too familiar.

My eyes narrowed. "Him?" I repeated. "That rude pig is the _prince_? What a sorry country this will be when he rules!"

"Rude pig?" Mya said, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Suddenly, snippets of our earlier conversation returned to Mya's memory and realization dawned upon her. "You don't mean--that _he_ is the arrogant man that you met today that gave you such a grumpy mood?"

"Is there another arrogant _pig_," I said, correcting her, "that I complained about today?"

Mya's eyes widened in horror. "Oh, Sina, you cannot insult the prince! He--well, he's the prince!" she said urgently.

"He's an obnoxious prick, that's what he is," I said.

Mya shook her head. "He is not as bad as you say; I have seen him before, and he is fair," she insisted anxiously.

I only smiled and said, "I have my own experiences with him, and I can promise he is anything _but_ fair."

"He is nothing of the sort!" Mya said, covering for the prince. I did not quite understand why; fact is fact, and one would do well to admit and accept it, however grudgingly. "He is a very intellectual and careful prince who genuinely cares for his country."

I snorted--a terrible unladylike thing, but it mattered not, for I was not a lady. "If he does," I said, though not believing a word of it, "then he is either an excellent actor or a liar."

A strange look crossed Mya's face--hurt? Disappointment? I couldn't quite interpret it. "I see," Mya said quietly. She shook her head lightly. "You can be quite stubborn at times."

I ignored her comment as I looked after the children. It was my whole reason of attendance. "Well, we cannot all share the same views," I said discardingly, pushing past our clashing feelings. "For all you might know, I could be one of those flirting ladies, sent to know you only to mock." A teasing smile was on my lips and the mood lifted.

The ball ended before midnight, surprisingly; I assumed it was due to the children's attendance. They needed sleep. I had not danced at all that night, and I was thankful for it; I had never danced before in my life, and I did not want to make a greater fool of myself than what I already was.

After making sure Jonathan was sleeping well, I departed to my own bedroom for some rest. Blowing out the candle, I then rolled over in my bed, covering myself with the covers. And then the idea flickered across my mind once more.

_That sorry pig is the prince!_

I grunted at the fact. I hoped never to cross paths with him again, and if I must, I would prove him wrong.

I didn't know that I would have to cross paths with him many more times.

-----------------------

So, I introduced Sina's fault earlier than I'd planned. Yeah. Well... Hope you enjoyed! Please reivew!


	3. Mission of Matrimony

Decided to make it present tense for everything but her dreams.

Gyeh, now I put in a little Prince and the Pauper in here... sort of... snap. I gotta stop stealing storylines. (I don't own that, by the way.)

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CHAPTER THREE

Mission of Marriage

I wake before the race of dawn. The sky is still dark and the air still hangs with a certain chilliness. My blankets are covered in dew, and I am a little wet as well. Grunting, I hoist myself up, rubbing my temples, as the dreams return to me. I cannot even escape the memories of castle life while unconscious!

I quietly make a promise to myself that I shall not fall asleep tonight, in case the dreams shall live once more. Looking behind me, I see nothing, I hear nothing; hopefully no one is on my trail.

Quickly, I fold the blanket and put it away before immediately starting again. My stomach grumbles slightly in protest. I have not yet had breakfast, but I push the pain of hunger aside and journey on. I must recall hunger. I must recall the life of the poor.

My feet drag along the untrodded path of broken branches as I continue onwards. My eyes droop down slightly and I am tempted to fall asleep once more; one full day of tedious travel and no more than five hours of sleep did not do well with me.

I look down at my grimy clothes and a wane smile crosses my face. Certainly he will not recognize me as this!

Once again, I find my mind wandering to the palace life. I shake my head free of those thoughts and concentrate on my hometown. My first memory is Aquien. Would he recognize me as this? This foreign person who he hadn't heard of in years? I recall sending a few letters in the beginning, but they dwindled down to nothing. Perhaps he believed me dead.

He could not believe me to be so. With this thought, I pick up my pace for no apparent reason. It is a while yet before I get anywhere close.

I soon find the day setting again, but I trek onwards anyways. However, it comes to the point that my eyelids grow too heavy that I am willing to fall asleep standing that I finally relent my body to rest, lying on the floor with uncomfortable branches and stones poking at my back.

But too weary I am!--I do not mind at all. In fact, I hardly feel it.

However, it appears to be a mistake, for the moment I close my eyes, I fall into a deep sleep.

And all too soon, the dreams begin.

-------------

"I apologize; did you say that you are relieving me of my duties with Jonathan?"

I was in absolute shock as I stared--dumbfounded, no doubt, to which I would be embarrassed by later--at no other than His Majesty, the king. I could not believe my ears; I had not been stripped away of my work!

He nodded from his high throne, not seeming to notice my appalled state. "Yes, I have said as thus," he said.

I sputtered slightly before continuing. My mind was swarming with confusion. "B--why, Your Majesty?" I said.

He sighed as the grave subject began. "I have heard of your accomplishments," he started, choosing his words before he continued. "It takes a great strategist and a brilliant mind to do what you have done."

I felt adventure at the very tip of his tongue and of my fingers, tingling with excitement. I was suddenly yanked back, however, when I recalled Jonathan. No doubt he would be mistreated by the next man who attempts to "cure" him.

The king continued in his graces, as he always did. He likely did not even know of my troubles. "The prince is aging, and without a wife; I wish you to aid him in having the Princess of Aigesworth's hand."

I contemplated the idea--or more so, appeared to do it. The truth was that I had no intention of meeting the king's challenge; I would much rather tutor young Jonathan with great potential than to deceive a princess to marrying a haughty pig. How could I deny the king of his wishes in the most polite manner? Was it even possible at all? For an odd reason, I doubted it.

"Your Majesty," I started, my voice slightly strangled. It did not pass by the king; his brows furrowed. "I have enjoyed working with the youth, and I believe I always shall; it brings me delight to give to them what I didn't have as a child." I could tell by the look he cast over me, quickly scanning me from head to toe, that he understood what I had missing in my own childhood. "However, what you have assigned me to do--"

He predicted my next words before they slipped from my lips. Overriding my words with his powerful voice, he said, "I will ensure that you will return to the position that you are so fond of once this task is complete; I fear only for my son, whose time is running short before matrimony and does not seem to be interested in any."

I wished to be able to say that I did not want to serve his son, but I knew that it could not be done. I forced myself to look brightly; after all, was this not what my mother had wished for? That I serve the king? Biting my lip, I dared to say, "Under one condition, Your Majesty."

The king scrutinized me, trying to find my next words in my expression. "And what may that condition be?" he requested.

I hesitated before speaking. "You are aware of Jonathan, of whom I am looking after." The king nodded. "I find nothing wrong with him, though many say his interests are displaced. If I am to do this mission that you ask of me, then I require that Jonathan be sent to study at a medical school involving herbology; I have great faith that he will exceed in the curriculum and prosper there."

The king considered my idea and nodded, thinking it a fair price to pay. "That is no request at all," he said after a moment of silence. "I shall have it done, upon your recommendation." I smiled in thanks before he dismissed me once more.

Joy hit me; Jonathan would be able to do as he wished and not be ridiculed for it, but be praised. No doubt he would be excessively pleased to hear the news. My smile grew in delight as I made my way down, forcing myself to remain at a steady walk, excited to tell him the news.

But at what price? My own happiness. Forced upon the dirty work of the ever-obnoxious prince to deceive an innocent princess (or haughty, though I doubted she would ever be as haughty as the prince). I could not be honest; a trickery, a way with words. Though on one side it sounded exciting, the purpose was cruel.

As predicted, Jonathan was more than pleased when I told him of the exchange. I had left some bits out, including my lying position, only stating that I was to leave and I had given him an education. Naturally, he was upset at my leaving, but I promised him a new and better life than one that I could ever give him.

I doubted it helped the departure, however. I couldn't promise to see him again, for I did not know what the job would bring me. Would I stay in the castle? Would I go to the other country? Then I realized; I was not only selected for my wit. I was also female, and I likely knew how the feminine mind works. However, I was hideous enough not to cause any suspicion or jealousy.

This newfound light on the subject upset me greatly. Though I was not entirely materialistic, I still held some feelings and was a bit self-conscious over my appearance. I bit my lip. But I could not deny the king, of all people! And if I were to succeed in this mission, my mother's will would be complete and I would be able to depart. My curse would be lifted, though I did not care for that minor detail.

And, as I entered my room and locked the door behind me, I fell upon the bed and let my torn feelings fall out. For the first time since I arrived, I cried, relieving the stress and weight placed upon me.

I _was_ self-conscious of my appearance, but I hated showing it. I hated it so much that I didn't even let myself know about it. And now, to be chosen _because_ of my ugliness, condemned to a deed I wished not to do--but what could I do but to follow the king's order?

I hated it.

----------------------

I left the next day. Apparently, the king did not want to lose any time in seeking the princess's hand, and had even gone to the lengths of having prepared a wardrobe for me to depart with. I wondered briefly what would have happened if I'd declined his generous offer--where the gowns would go. However, he likely never thought of that prospect, for who would dare turn down a king?

Sighing, I boarded the carriage, seating myself on the soft, plush, cushioned seats. And, to my ultimate surprise, the pig was already on the carriage, waiting for me. I had expected that he would be completely irresponsible and arrive late. When I was proven wrong, I supposed his anxiety to be married had pushed him on the carriage earlier than what he would have otherwise done.

He stuttered slightly as he caught sight of my face. "You!" he said, surprised, insulting my very being with his shocked appearance. "You're that--"

"--one person your _father_ deemed would be clever enough to help you along, but ugly enough as not to cause jealousy," I finished bitterly, crossing my arms and eyeing him coldly. "Do you have an issue with that?"

"No," he said hastily, understanding my cold manner immediately and fell silent on the whole ride. I sighed inwardly. At least the prince wasn't as much of an idiot as he was of a pig, though an idiot still, nonetheless.

The ride was long and rickety, making us jump while the thin wheels rolled over bumps in the road. I was lulled to sleep several times, only to be rudely awoken later by those particular bumps. And, by the time we rolled to a stop in front of an inn, I was quite refreshed and not at all needing any sort of rest.

However, they lodged me in for a room anyways, though I persisted that I did not need one, for I would not use it anyways. However, when the prince suggested that they _do_ leave me in the carriage for the entire of the night, I was upsetted. Though I would have been pleased some other time, his tone was of exasperation that clearly read, "Let us heed to her wishes to have her silenced."

Naturally, I was not satisfied.

The footman, though, refused to see that I would sleep within the carriage and paid the sum for my room, and, naturally, with this kind insistence, I had no choice but to smile, thank him for his generosity and ascended to my room. When I was quite certain that he was asleep in the carriage, however, I departed my bedroom and walked around the inn's small lands, breathing in the fresh air.

The sky was a royal velvet blue, covering the world with a clear beauty. The stars poked through, twinkling merrily as they played games and laughed with each other, some laughing harder than others. I smiled at this calming scenery. Though there was no bench to sit on, I sat on the soft, damp grass. _Nine more days,_ I thought. _Nine more days until the real torture begins_.

And nine days passed too quickly. The carriage rides passed in absolute silence, without a word between the pig and me. But that was just the way I wanted it, and I could not complain.

I was startled when the carriage suddenly rolled to a stop, despite its broad daylight. Had we broken an axle? Only after a few seconds of thought did I realize that we had arrived to the neighboring country at long last. Under the days of the travel, I had lost track of the days, and a week's events merged into one day.

The door opened, revealing the face of the footman. "Prince Adrian, Lady Kiersina. We have arrived."

I was startled and flattered of his reference of me as a lady. I was not even _close_ to being a noble; I was simply an educated servant, maid, call it, brought in to teach the noble children. I pointed this out lightly as I climbed out; he only smiled and said that I was lady enough. Naturally, I did not protest against this.

The pig, however, only wrinkled his nose and said nothing. We arrived at the large doors which were pushed open to acknowledge us in. A tidy uniformed maid came in and curtseyed before us. "Prince Adrian? We have been expecting you."

"I did my best to make haste," he said charmingly, and I suppressed a roll of my eyes. He did nothing of the sort. He did not even seem to be excited on the entire trip over.

The maid smiled. Her eyes then fell upon me and she hesitated. After all, a prince bringing a woman--however unsightly--while seeking a princess's hand? "And--err, who might you be?"

"I'm his chaperone," I said loudly before the pig could say anything. The maid looked confused at my response; was I being sarcastic or serious? To compromise, she offered a small smile which seemed to be more of a grimace. The pig, however, knew exactly what to do. He shot a glare over at me.

With a bit of hesitance, the maid acknowledged us and let us enter, still slightly suspicious about me. What was I to say, however? That I was his advisor? It sounded bad enough in the mind; no doubt it would sound even worse when spoken.

We were introduced to the royal family, and I tried my best to keep out of sight and stay in the shadows. However, my efforts were futile as the princess--who turned out to be a beautiful sight, complete opposite of me--caught sight of me.

"And what is this?" she said as she stepped closer to me, examining me from every angle, as though I were an item waiting to be bought or sold. I held in my breath of annoyance. Already I disliked the girl. Not only did she insult my foul appearance by her interest, but she had called me by the name of an item or a barbarian animal. Not a who, but a what.

"My name is Kiersina," I said, trying my best to keep my voice polite. It was awkward enough to be here; what was the king thinking? Did he want to rid his kingdom of such a hideous beast? "I am sent from the king to monitor the pi--pardon, prince's actions." I inwardly let out a breath of relief; what would have happened if I had let 'pig' slip out?

The King of Aigesworth frowned at me. "A mistress?" he interpreted.

"A chaperone," I corrected, trying my best--which was clearly not enough--to keep my look of disgust and horror from my face.

The king caught sight of my expression and nodded slowly, still slightly confused. Clearly, he still did not understand what I had meant. "A servant?"

"An advisor," the pig said, speaking before I could.

The king was caught off guard. "An advisor?" he repeated, thoroughly surprised. "A woman? As an advisor?"

The prince nodded, keeping his eyes on the king. "Yes, Your Majesty. She has proven herself worthy through skill and wit to convert the noble children who were heading awry back to the path of nobility, especially in the circumstances in which more experienced and older governesses had failed." I bit my lip. Only earlier this month, he had insulted my success. But of course he spoke of my triumphs now that it boosted his own status.

"A governess?" the queen suddenly interjected, trying to figure out my position just as the king was. She focused her attention on me. It was clear that she did not think much of governesses.

I hesitated slightly before responding, searching for the right words to say. I felt awkward under the intense gaze of the entire of the royalty. "With all due respect, Your Highness," I said slowly, "the children that I have been gifted to required just as much wisdom and thought as love and patience--qualities that are necessary in any advisor."

I looked at them, somewhat anxiously, to see their reaction to my response. I was rewarded with a slow nod of the head in an approving manner. I felt the knot in my chest unclench slightly in relief. They approved of me. They approved of me. I was filled with a relieved warmth and a small smile made its way to my face.

"But she's quite an atrocious thing to look at, isn't she?" the princess suddenly said, voicing her thoughts. My grin slowly disappeared as I watched her, my face emotionless. I knew she was intelligent. I heard about her studies previously, but I have never heard of her materialistic preferences. "Such stiff hair," she said, criticizing my appearance, "and such white, scratchy complexion! It's a miracle that it isn't covered in red splotches."

I had never thought of that. I suppose, in a manner, I should be thankful and relieved that I was not allergic to much, giving me rashes, which surely would have conflicted with my skin somewhat terribly.

"Anisa," the queen said sharply with a pointed look. "Where are your manners? Quiet now; you can't accuse our guests in front of them!"

I frowned slightly at the wording. Did it mean that it was perfectly fine to accuse me behind my back? Personally, though it bothered me immensely to have them gossip before me, it was worse in secret. I preferred the princess's method over the queen's.

The queen then smiled as though nothing had happened. "Come, now. Let us now dine."

They led us to a large dining hall, with a beautiful, heavy chandelier hanging from the dome ceiling, with beautiful paintings of angels battling dragons. They fought in what seemed to be heaven and hell combined, with clear blue skies and dazzling, soft white clouds and spurting flames grasping and licking at their feet. Combined into the picture were stormy red clouds which magically seemed to blend into the pearly white ones. Never had I seen such a combination, and it was fascinating. So fascinating, in fact, that the delicious meal was lost upon me.

"You enjoy paintings, Kiersina?" the king said, noticing how I constantly turned my neck up to gaze at the enchanted life-like ceiling.

I snapped my head back down and offered a feeble smile. "Yes," I admitted, nodding slowly. "I love trying to decipher the messages and stories the artist intends for the viewers to interpret when viewing his masterpiece." Then, thinking that perhaps they would rather me enjoy the meal than the ceiling, I blushed slightly and ate a little more, tasting the food for the first time.

The king, however, thought nothing of the sort. "That is very interesting," he said. Then, nodding toward his daughter, he continued, "Our Anisa is quite creative when it comes to the sport."

"I never was quite so talented at anything of the sort," the pig said, a casual smile on his face. "I prefer action myself."

At this, the king laughed, though I found nothing so humorous. "All princes do," he said. "I was so myself in my youth."

"You still are, dear," the queen corrected.

The king sighed in defeat. "Yes, I suppose I am," he agreed. "Pity, though, there's no time for me now to take action. Adrian, before you assume position as king, you must live life as a prince to the fullest first."

I kept my comments to myself. I believed that Adrian was already living his life as prince to the fullest, taking advantage of his power and using it in haughtiness. Naturally, it would be rather awkward to voice a thought such as this, so I kept silent.

I did not pay much attention to the remainder of the light conversation they held. I found it quite boring and not interesting at all; I recalled those conversations I had with Jonathan, where we had true laughter and observed things. Not this polite, distant conversation.

And I was quite relieved when it was over with and they rose for the servants to take the silver platters away. I walked slowly, caught up in the beauty of the castle. Paintings and portraits decorated and lined the corridors. However, I made sure that I was within ten paces of the Princess of Aigesworth, who was the last one in their line.

I didn't notice when the princess mentioned that she had to go pick something up.

I didn't notice when the remainder of the party went on ahead at her insistence.

I didn't notice until the princess was right beside me.

I turned around, startled, finding the dazzling blonde before me, looking furious. My brows knitted in confusion and surprise. "What--?" I started, but I was quickly interrupted with her answer.

"Do you really think me that dumb?" she snarled, advancing toward me, giving me no choice but to step back. "_Governess_, you say. _Advisor_, you claim. What kind of a man needs an advisor to succeed marriage?" Her lips tightened. "My father was right to begin with. You're a mistress. The nerve of it!"

I only stared at her in absolute horror and shock. Not so much that she was correct, but as for how horribly wrong she was. Yet, my horror was misinterpreted by her.

"Get out," she demanded angrily, her eyes flashing furiously. "Get out, and take that prince of yours with you!"


	4. Secrets of Pass

**NOTE! I will be unable to update all of July and half of August due to traveling and stuff. Sorry about that!**

Sorry I couldn't get this out. I struck writer's block, then I realized my style of writing was switching over somewhat and rewrote some of it, though I still don't think I did it right...

Yeah. I've had loooads of trouble with this chapter. The writing is off, the plot is... nonexistant. The chapter is short, too. And not to mention, I won't be able to update for a while. However, I'll be bringing a notebook and pen and maybe, for once, I can actually write a story with pen and paper instead of the computer--something I was always unable to achieve.

But this chapter did start me to get thinking. I have some rough ideas ready to be brought into the story that still need to be flourished, as you can see with the ending. I'll try and smooth everything out next chapter.

Other than that, hope you enjoy!

**Brief Edit, thanks to Nimue's review!**

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CHAPTER FOUR

Secrets of Pass

I wake, my breathing ragged and in short breaths as though I had only just run a long distance without pause. As I realize my surroundings and my position, my heart starts to ease and settles into a more comfortable beat. I lift my hand to my head to ease its pounding as the distant recollections of my dreams arose in my mind and a weary, exasperated sigh escapes me. Must I recall the palace days every night?

With a grunt, I slowly hoist myself up and roll the blankets into a small bundle. I look to the east; the sun is still in its waking moments. On a normal day, it would have been far too early to be up.

But, despite my exhaustion, I could not linger and waste valuable time of escape and return. Quite the oxymoron.

With some reluctance, I hike up the trail again, pushing through the woods that I had waded through before under entirely different circumstances. Even physical.

I let out a slow sigh. Will Aquien recognize me as this? He had befriended the hideous, atrocious Kiersina. I am not the same Kiersina as I once was. I have gained flesh to add to my bones, and my skin had darkened and flushed to a healthier color. However, my eyes and my terrible hair have not changed from their horrible state. But I am not the repulsive Kiersina. I am merely below average.

It couldn't be that I have found true love! That would only result in--in falling in love with--

Quickly, I shake my head to clear myself of such thoughts. _Impossible_, I think forcefully as I pushed a branch aside. But I cannot help but recall...

I give a cry of annoyance. Could my thoughts ever settle down? Must I carry on such a heavy labor on my back? Must I remember every detail from the castle days?

_Aquien will help me_, I tell myself. It is likely to be true. _Aquien will help me sort through my emotions and understanding. It will be another story that we will be sent to analyze._ I allowed my thoughts to drift to the more wistful ideas of the past. _Has he gotten Homer's works yet? Is he still in town, with my disappearance for years...?_

I recall the daily routine of what I had in the past. Wake, chores, then visit the library and Aquien. I have not done anything resembling my past chores while I lived at the castle. Will my fingers remember how to work?

Apprehension and reason settled into me. Perhaps my sudden leave is far too rash.. but it is far too late to turn back. It is my fourth day gone.

And as all days, the fourth day comes to a close, forcing me to succumb to the darkness. And with darkness comes much needed sleep, and though I protest, I cannot help but dream once more...

-----------------------------------

I stared, aghast at her words. I would be only far too happy to oblige, to depart--but would I be condemning my mother? "I--I can't," I said helplessly, my voice cracking as the fresh image of my mother's death appeared in my mind. I remembered how her warm, wrinkled hand turned cold and the last breath she exhaled, muttering--

She scoffed, interrupting my tears of my mother's funeral that never happened. How insensitive she was! "You can't?" she said. "You can't?" She had the look of disbelief. "Have you been cast out by your own country? I can see why; you are far too dishonorable and hideous to be kept within a country that retains dignity."

I bit my lip in flashing anger, her rudeness crediting to my rising dislike. Dishonorable? Hideous? I have received the latter comment often enough, and I thoroughly expected to receive it once more here. However, _never_ had I ever been _close_ to be called 'dishonorable.' The closest person to it was the pig, and even his words weren't quite so drastic!

I refrained myself from lashing out. She was, after all, royalty. A mistake could result in consequences that I feared for. Death? I could not die yet! I had not yet honored my mother's last wish! And I refused to let that happen. I would lie, I would act, I would suffer if it meant that I could uphold my mother's last request. "I'll let you think what you want to think, for I do not believe I can change your mind," I said, my voice shaking with the forced calm. "However, that is not true."

She smirked slightly. "Try to end the conversation civilly, are you?" she said, her voice with mock sweetness, like the berries in my neighbor's backyard that look so delicious but was venemous. "I don't understand why, cheating and... sneaking into my castle, my country, my _home_--as the mistress of a prince seeking _my_ hand? You have no honor! And then to think that you wish to end any conversation between us _civilly_--"

"You want me to lash out, then?" I requested, eyeing her coldly. "You wish me to speak what I have in my mind?" Without waiting for a response, I continued, "I'm afraid I cannot do so."

"And why is that?" she demanded.

I merely smiled. "It is far too terrible for you to understand."

She merely stared at me, surprised at my bluntness. Had I said something out of line? I supposed that many treated the princess wth far too much respect, coating their words with sweet raspberry juice. I did that only when I wished to avoid a topic.

"Let me get my point across, princess, if you will allow me," I said, interrupting whatever thought she had at the moment. Not that I honestly cared. I briefly wondered if she was even _capable_ of genuine thought. "Why would any prince ever _want_ me to be his mistress?"

She pouted slightly, narrowing her eyes in anger. Perhaps she was frustrated that I did not immediately comply to her wishes; perhaps she was furious that I talked _back_ to her. Either way, she was upset, to put it lightly. "I admit you have a point there," she readily agreed, "but with the prince of yours?" She scoffed. "I wouldn't put it over him. Heaven knows where _his_ brain is."

I opened my mouth to respond but cut myself short from my blunt thoughts. If I had responded as I intended, I would have compared the princess's brain with the prince's--something I believed in, but I decided would be the wrong thing to say. As I closed my mouth, she took my act of thoughtfulness to be one of confusion. She had thought I'd drawn a blank--and for that, she smirked.

"Stumped, are you?" she said smugly. "Well, I'm sure your kin, the earthworm, wouldn't mind. After all, they _are_ quite down low--and useless, disgusting, shriveling little creatures that shouldn't exist in the first place." Her earlier confident look was replaced by one of disgust as she pictured the moist earthworm turning into a flattened, dry crisp after the rain succumbed to the brilliant sun.

I stared at her, aghast. Perhaps I had spent a little too much time with Johnathan, but I thought earthworms dignified and did not deserve such insults. "The earthworms help the environment by loosening the soil and spreading nutrients for the flowers to grow," I told her, my voice barely civil, hinting at some coldness. I simply couldn't restrain myself.

She ignored me. I supposed she didn't enjoy being corrected or taught by someone she decided to be as her lesser. "I want you out!" she said firmly, her eyes blazing with anger and determination. "I want you to leave my castle immediately!

I gave her a look that made her hesitate slightly. I said somewhat apologetically (though it took great effort to have any effect at all), "Then I suppose duty tells me to bid you a good day, now, princess, but I'm afraid I _cannot_ leave." I inclined my head in her direction. "Good day."

And with that, I turned on my heel and left, leaving the princess stunned at my rude behavior. Who dares to walk out on a princess?

I did.

But the beautiful paintings and murals that hung in the corridors and the ceraceous sculptures proudly standing on podiums didn't seem to impress me as much as they did only minutes earlier.

---------------------------------------

"What do you think of the Princess of Aigesworth?"

The arrogant pig voiced his question the moment we were (almost) alone, out of earshot. The king had turned out to be quite a good-humored, kind man, courteous and civilized. I was not quite sure what to make of the queen yet, for she hardly spoke. On the few occasions that she did, she had plastered a smile on her face that I wasn't exactly sure was completely and honestly genuine.

Night had fallen, and the servant before us was guiding us to our bedchambers. Looking to my left, I realized that the pig was still awaiting my answer, which quite surprised me. Did he honestly care enough for my opinion? He seemed far too conceited; then again, he was likely far too dumb to be able to make a judgment by himself. "My duty would have me tell you that she is quite an intellectual, beautiful young lady, the ideal princess," I replied indifferently. "However, if I were to reply in honest, I would say she is quite a shallow, stubborn hog who is rather spoiled, snotty, and bad-tempered." I nodded. "She is honestly a perfect match for you, sir."

He, who had opened his mouth to respond to my apt description of the pampered princess, instantly shut his mouth and looked at me, his eyes hard, warning me not to say another word. And I did not intend to say another word, but his daring expression had tempted me to continue speaking. "I doubt even Cupid himself could find a more compatible person."

I felt him stiffen slightly and saw him shoot me a cold look. It was apparent that he did not appreciate my words, which only brought greater satisfaction down upon me. The words had slipped from my mouth before I knew it.

He deserved it anyways, the git.

I did not continue to aggravate him, for no good would come of it and even aggravation grows old after a few careless comments. Not to mention, he was _royalty_, and I would not be able to complete my mother's request via annoyance. Instead, I settled for a smug silence and left him to sulk in his own irritated quiet. I would have actually preferred if the whole walk back to the dormitories gifted upon us by the King of Aigesworth had remained in silent, but silence was not _good_ enough for the incompetent pig.

No; he had to ruin it again with one of his persistent questions. Why did he wish to know my opinion, anyways? He very well knew what I thought of him.

"She is well-trained," he commented quietly, referring to the princess. "She would make a fine queen... but..."

I had been laughing mentally as he had voiced his thoughts aloud. Well-trained? Fine queen? Those were phrases I would never use as synonyms for the princess. However, by his contradictory term, I looked up, frowning. Did this prince have more common sense than I gave him credit for?

I sighed, shaking my head slightly, ridding myself of the thoughts. These past days in the palace... away from the disobedient but cheerful children that always made me smile. I missed their presence--the way they laughed, carefree and delighted. Their light-hearted personalities clashed with the snobbish royalty as oil and water. It was better not to dwell on hateful thoughts. Glide past them, glide away from them.

"She assumes far too quickly," the prince continued, his lips tugging downward into a frown. "It would result in numerous misunderstandings, which will result in... well..."

I sighed somewhat, sensing a critical analysis of the princess's character approaching. I was not disappointed; he voiced his thoughts of her character, intellectual ability, and overall personality, not seeming to realize that he was speaking at all. As it was--and though I reluctantly admitted it inwardly--I was impressed by some of his observations, observations that even I had failed to notice. Perhaps he deserved more than what I gave him.

"She does not care for the responsibilities of being queen, though she would do it," he commented, continuing. "Only half-heartedly, however. She would want something more exhilarating, rebellious--she seems the type to keep secrets to herself, secrets that have been created out of selfishness and would harm others, but later causing regret. Despite this, she _wants_ to be queen, and a good one at that, though she may not hold any interest in the duties of a queen. She wants to do the best for her people. I suspect she will either die far too young or far too old, full of burdens and regret."

His commentary gradually continued to a somewhat more drastic state as he predicted her entire life based on the impression he was left with after one afternoon. I was quite surprised, and even more so when I agreed with some of it. What shocked me furthermore was that my earlier hate--no, I cannot use the term. My earlier strong dislike was fading away into a slight grudge with the prince's analysis, observing her character far more than the single one-dimension view I saw her as.

"She is rude and stubborn, determined--but in justice, she is fair-minded. I suspect that if a person allows her to be rude, he becomes her servant. If he puts up with it and responds with comebacks, she would respect him..."

I suddenly cut him off. "Do you love her?"

He halted in his ramblings as his gaze flickered over to me. His brows were furrowed in question, his eyes confused. "What?"

I refrained myself from doing anything but responding. "Do you love her?"

He hesitated and the silence immediately switched into one of awkwardness. He laughed slightly, not understanding what I had said. What was there not to understand? "Do I _love_ her?" he repeated, dumbfounded.

I resisted a sigh that was slipping from my throat and repeated calmly, "Yes; do you love her?"

He seemed to be procrastinating in his response. Why, I did not know; however, he seemed uncomfortable with the question. I shot him a look, demanding an answer.

He understood my meaning.

"No," he responded finally and firmly. "No, I do not _love _her; though isn't it far too quick to decide?"

I simply shrugged and continued walking, opting for silence, letting him figure it out himself. After all, with my proposition, perhaps he would come to a decision faster with love as an obstacle. He, on the other hand, sighed and grudgingly followed, muttering under his breath.

I did not honestly care for what he was saying, but his words drifted to my ears and I couldn't block it out. And when I comprehended them, my eyes widened in alarm. He had not meant for me to hear it, just as I had not meant _myself_ to hear it.

_"Which makes it all the better."_

Quickly, I dared to shoot him a glance, but he did not notice. Instead, he was so caught up in whatever was possessing his mind at the moment--perhaps something related to his earlier words?

What made him so afraid of love? I could not comprehend--did it have anything to relate to his attitude? From his rudeness down to the critical analysis of character? Did he analyze me as well, predicting what I would be like, what role I would play in his life? Did he analyze only to see if there would be anyone he might possibly _love_ and steer clear of them?

I held my breath. What had aroused the paranoia of love?

It could be something as shallow as character, though I doubted this belief. It did not seem to be the most affable conversation topic, either, and I doubted I could dulcify it easily. He would be far too aware, judging his reaction to my simple question. It was likely a subject he agonized over, something he kept closely guarded.

"Your room, milady."

I looked up with a start, seeing the servant gesturing to an open door. I stepped in and looked around; the room was simply beautiful. A small smile stretched upon my face. The floor was carpeted with a deep royal red color and a beautifully carved mahogany four-poster bed with the same deep red draperies. I walked toward it and fingered the carvings.

The smile tugged upward as I ran my fingers across the small people drowning a figure in the depths of the water. I recognized it. My days of sanity back in my hometown where Aquien was--where we had pondered over stories daily. I remembered that one particular Monday morning when we decided to work on myths across the globe, analyzing the differences of cultures.

That seemed so long ago, and I missed it. I missed Aquien. A tear pricked my eye and I quickly brushed it away. Managing a small smile, I turned to the servant and said, "Thank you."

The servant merely nodded and took the pig away to his own bedchamber, and I did not care. Slowly, I lifted myself upon the soft bed and laid down, where sleep had at last consumed me.

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They say I am far too sly, too sneaky. They say I am far too twisted, often eavesdropping on conversations. I never mean to. I never did. It always somehow _happens_, as I found myself strolling aimlessly down the corridors early in the morning when I suspected everyone else still to be in bed. No, I lied. I was not strolling aimlessly; I was trying to find an exit. I wished to visit their gardens but got lost in the process.

But my intentions didn't matter. In fact, they hardly ever matter, but that is beside the point at the moment. I was wandering around the hallways when rising voices caught my interest. Curious, I looked for the source of the sound; it seemed to be behind one particular door.

"I don't like them, Daddy," came one voice--one that I recognized as Princess Anisa of Aigesworth's. She spoke firmly. "I want them to go away!"

I heard an impatient sigh, one that I assumed came from the king. I was not disappointed. "That is not polite, Anisa."

"But that one girl _is_ an ugly thing," came the queen's voice. I bit my lip slightly to keep silent. "I still do not understand why she is here."

"But she _does_ have wit with her," the king commented. "Intelligent too, by the looks of it."

"But ever so hideous," the queen said disdainfully. I could imagine her shaking her head lightly in disgust.

"I think she's a mistress," the princess declared, as though the matter were settled.

I glared at the door slightly, irritated. They were a shallow family, one that I did not honestly wish to be associated with. I turned my heel to leave when a new line of conversation caught my ear.

"That's not the concern, dear. The concern is the _prince_," the king said hastily. "It is why I called both of you here."

The queen heaved a feminine sigh and I envisioned her to shake her head slowly from side to side. "That much _is_ true," she agreed. "Well, if you dislike him so much, perhaps you should marry him."

"What kind of logic is that, Mother?" Anisa said, angered. For once, I sided with her. Hate a man to marry him? I couldn't understand it.

"That is not the point," the king said, his tone exasperated. "I have not yet informed either of you of this information... but..." His voice trailed off and he seemed oddly tired; I could hardly relate this weakened old man to the jovial king I had been introduced with the day previous. "Eileen, you recall our son?"

There was a pause and my ears pricked for a response. "Son?" repeated Anisa, clearly shocked. "Mother, you had a _son_?"

No one spoke for a long moment. I could imagine Anisa's horrified face, that such a great secret was kept from her. I could predict the king's grave face, his eyes flickered to the floor in shame. And I could visualize the queen's frightened face, white with agony.

"Yes, I do," Eileen whispered, her voice frail and ready to break.

"What? Mother, Father, tell me! What's going on?" demanded Anisa, like a spoiled child would. However, for once, I did not blame her as I awaited the answer.

There was a grave sigh as the king began to speak. "Anisa, dear, before you were born, we had a son," he said, trying to be as gentle as possible. "For... for certain reasons that we cannot discuss right now, we were forced to give him away. The... the neighboring country was experiencing a difficult political era, one that had only just ended. We thought... if we gave him to that country, it would be sneakiest. After all, they were under a mess of obligations and the media could not cover _everything_ with all that was going on. Any story could have easily been formulated.

"As it was, they were unable to produce an heir and accepted. However, with certain circumstances that they are experiencing at the moment, they have decided to return our son to us."

The king halted in his words, apprehensive. The princess was in shock as she voiced my very thoughts. "You--you don't mean..."

"I'm afraid so, Anisa," Eileen said gently. "Adrian is your brother."


	5. Faces of Familiarity

Sorry about the rottenness of this chapter. The writing style is completely horridly off, and it sucks like crap. And it's really short, and it took FOREVER to get out. Sorry bout that.

But on the upper hand, I did come up with a better plot idea!

Enjoy and review!

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CHAPTER FOUR

Faces of Familiarity

These nightmares that plague my dreams, my thoughts, my actions--this curse, when will it end? I wake once more. The inevitable. The unavoidable. Even my first thought traces back to the castle days. Is it possible to forget? Is it possible to ignore?

I am trying. I trek onward, continuously, tirelessly, determined to walk away from the memories that haunt me so. Perhaps Aquien shall aid in soothing my thoughts. My swirling mind suddenly freezes. _Aquien, Aquien, Aquien._ The name repeats itself endlessly in my mind, mockingly, singing in a daunting tone.

I let out a groan of frustration. Everything I see, everything I think of _somehow_ reflects back to the palace life. "Sina," I mutter to myself, "think of happier times." And I try--I really do try. Only it never seems to work.

I try and concentrate on anything--a twig, a branch, a tree, a blade of grass. Nothing works.

_Perhaps_, I think, _perhaps if I allow myself to remember, it will leave by itself_...

It is worth a try. After all, nothing else appears to be working.

My ears catch the sound of the drifting breeze before it suddenly stops. Halts. Freezes into a silence with a yearning.

Silence...

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Silence had followed the statement immediately. It was awkward, confused, but hungry at the same time. The silence was suffocating, even, choking my throat, preventing any sound from escaping it. My mind reveled in shock. _Adrian? The princess's brother?_ The ends didn't seem to match up in my mind. But yet there was that undeniable curiosity hanging in the air, the _wanting,_ the _desire_ of knowing more information.

The same seemed to be true for Anisa. The silence weighed heavily and contradictingly in the air and slowly she choked out, "Mother... what?" Hastily, her frenzy was made noticable. "Father? Mother? What--what do you mean? My--my _brother_? I--I thought--"

I could imagine her horrified, shocked appearance on the pretty face of hers, looking bewilderedly from parent to parent. I imagined both parents' tired, weary look as they glanced at each other.

"Yes, Anisa," the queen said, attempting a soothing manner that I predicted would not work very well. One could not simply be _soothed_ into an epidemic such as this. "He is not here for your hand. He is here for a reunion with his family. We... we thought this the best way..."

"The _best_ way?" the princess said, followed by a _thunk_. I assumed that she had stood up and, in her rage, knocked over her chair. "The _best_ way would be to tell me when I was younger! Not--not by _disguising_ it as such--"

I heard the king's tired sigh. "Anisa, dear, understand--you didn't _need_ to struggle to act, you simply _responded_. We can't have you slip up with other people around--it would defeat the purpose of disguising the ordeal as a _marriage_ proposal, a--"

"Oh, yeah, that's another thing," she said angrily. "What do we do? We aren't to be wed, but he is to come live with us? Why is this all kept a secret? Why can't you all just say, we have a son and he is returning to us? Wh--"

"It would look _bad_ to have a son--a crown prince being raised by another countr--"

"Crown prince? _Crown prince_?" I could vividly imagine the princess's horrified, aghast face, her mouth agape. "I thought _I_ was heir to the throne! It's what you've told me my whole life! 'When you take the throne from us,' 'when we leave the throne to you, Anisa,'--were all those lies? The lot of them? I cannot _believe_ you! The very idea--"

"You _will_ be heir to the throne," the queen said, her tone starting to border impatience. "The neighboring country does not have an heir, and they have raised Adrian. So, he will remain their heir, and you will remain ours. But the two kingdoms will _not_ be joined."

Silence followed the queen's speech and I myself was a bit confused. Two separate countries ruled by the same family? Ontop of that, brother and sister? How would it all remain a secret?

"You see, dear," the king said in his tired voice, "offering our firstborn son was not only a necessity for _us_, due to the circumstances, but it also garaunteed us an alliance with the country. Adrian, though a part of our family, is not a part of our kingdom. Adrian will continue to rule in his own country, Shaquare. Do you understand?"

I began to understand the reasoning. They were now allies, and Aigesworth would have heavy influence over Shaquare when Adrian discovered his true family ties. But he was not brought up to raise Aigesworth, just as Anisa was brought up to inherit the throne. So he would _remain_ as a prince of Aigesworth, as it was planned... Inwardly, she hoped that Adrian would not allow the family ties to bend him. What would the royal family care more about--Aigesworth's prosperity, or their son that they had not had contact with since birth? I was quite certain that they would opt for the former.

Perhaps this was my chance to redeem my family, by supporting Shaquare despite Aigesworth's influences. It just so happened that I had entered the palace as a political mess was happening. Was it coincidence?

But yet, there was still one thing...

"What had caused you to give Adrian away? What was that epidemic?"

The princess had voiced my question aloud. I heard another sigh being emitted, but from who, I did not know. I was certain that the queen and king were glancing at each other nervously as I waited for their response, my fingers itching with a desire to know. My curiosity was peaked.

With dismay and horror, I heard footsteps approaching. Hastily, I ducked away into another corridor and hid, watching the well-dressed man with a feathered hat knock on the door hiding the royal family sharply. It was quickly opened and I slipped away from the scene, knowing that the conversation would not be pursued with the man in their presence.

But that didn't stop my imagination from wandering.

_Why was he given away? _They had referred to the incident so dramatically, as something that could not possibly be avoided. Perhaps it had been a part of a deal that they had made, to sacrafice their first born son for something of some sorts and gave their son away and faked his death? The idea seemed unlikely, but so did the truth of what she had discovered that day...

A new thought flickered across my mind. Did Adrian know? Chances, he did not--or he was a far better actor than I had ever imagined him to be. Should I tell him first? Prevent him from falling under Aigesworth's pressure? Keep him loyal to his country--_our_ country--alone? Or should I let him discover the circumstances the intended way and pretend I never heard the conversation?

The latter would likely be a better choice, I finally decided with a sigh. He would not likely believe me, anyways, being a hideous creature. And besides, what was I to say? "I had dropped my eaves and I was picking them up when I chanced to hear a conversation..."

Rounding a corner, I slammed into something. No; _I_ slammed into nothing and nobody. Somebody slammed into _me,_ sending me sprawling on the floor, hard against my spine. Hoisting myself up, I found an oustretched hand willing to help me up. Accepting it, I looked up to see who it belonged to.

Adrian.

Figured _he'd_ be the one to send me down.

"I'm sorry," he quickly apologized, seeming somewhat troubled.

I brushed away his apology; he shouldn't have said it if he didn't mean it. Manners were always lost on me. "Pray tell, why were you running?"

At this, he sighed. "To this, I cannot quite say," he said at last. "I--I was leaving my room, when I noticed the hallways seemed somewhat familiar. I don't know _how_, you know? I don't, but... it has a certain unknown familiarity of it, similar to when you see someone and think you've met them before, but they find you a stranger... And I just followed my feet, and..." His voice trailed off as he grew more aggravated. He wasn't quite literate enough to express his thoughts.

Regardless, I understood, perhaps to a further extent. Was this implying he had some memory of his past in this castle? How old was he when he had been moved? The opening was brilliant. Perfect, even. I could tell him what I had overheard only moments earlier, but I held back the information. He didn't deserve it now, and he would find out in due time.

"So you came here," I said instead, determined to keep my knowledge a secret. "Where were you headed?"

"That's just it!" he cried aloud. "I don't know! My feet recognized the path, not my mind!"

I attempted a look of apathy and disinterest, but the topic had caught my attention. "Of course." I paused awkwardly. "Well, why not continue your way to see if it reminds you of anything?"

He hesitated, looking down the corridor, an uncertain expression painted upon his face. Perhaps he felt guilty for intruding in a castle where he was a guest, or perhaps he didn't know if he _wanted_ to understand this curiosity or not. Slowly, he exhaled. "Yes, perhaps that is best," he determined, letting his feet guide him.

I followed. Noticing this, he stopped. "You're coming?"

"For your own sanity," I replied. He didn't understand what I meant, and neither did I. An answer was what I needed at the moment, and it was the best I could conjure in the limited time frame.

He let this comment pass and allowed me to follow. The portraits watched us as we passed with their unnerving eyes, though the pig seemed not to notice. Our footsteps fell in harmony against the cold stone floor that I had been thrown upon only moments before.

A turn. Adrian was picking up his pace now, almost in a run. His eyes were glazed over and his brows furrowed. I lifted my skirts to keep up with him; perhaps this was like legendary fairy tale Sleeping Beauty, with a prince instead of a princess, following some unbeknownst force dazedly.

Another turn. Hurry down that horribly long corridor in a fashion that made my heels hurt. I was never athletic; not with my health condition. My panting grew worse with every step and my right leg was beginning to ache, but I forced myself to push away the pain for the sake of satisfying curiosity.

The prick never noticed, nor did he care to slow down. In fact, he sped up with every passing corridor, until reaching that running speed that had knocked me over. My temple was starting to throb and a cramp was stretching out in my stomach and chest. I began to fall behind, try as I might to keep up. However, just as I began to lose him completely, he stopped, staring at a large wooden door.

He did not speak, nor did he move. As I fell in step beside him, I asked, "Is this it?"

He did not respond. Slowly, he reached out and ran his fingers against the roughly sanded door before pushing it open. It swung lightly in response to his touch, revealing a loud and noisy room with people bustling about. Pans and pots lined each table and to the corner was a fire.

Adrian entered the kitchen, and I followed close behind, still regaining my composure and breath. Hardly anybody noticed, being busy with something or another. "Addy, you got them carrots?" a man called out, his back facing us.

"This... is it?" I muttered under my breath to him. A kitchen. He'd made his way to the _kitchen_. Figured, him being the pig he was. "You followed your feet to a _kitchen_. Are you sure it wasn't your stomach? Or maybe your nose?" I continued mockingly. "Well, then? Does it remind you of anything? Perhaps those pastries your old cook used to make before you fired him?"

He didn't respond. In fact, he seemed disbelieving himself, looking around.

"Hurry up with them carrots, girl. We ain't got the whole day. Quit your yammering at the door and get 'em to me," the man shouted out again.

"I... I don't understand," he said. "It--it does look a bit familiar, I suppose, but..."

Well, he must have been quite the pig when he was young and residing in the Aigesworth castle as well to have memorized his way to the kitchen at so young an age. I scoffed slightly.

The man turned around toward us, a chef's knife in one hand, celery sticks in the other. "Addy, if you ain't gonna..." He stopped when he met our faces, freezing solid for a moment. As if on que, a few other people stopped in motion and turned to look at us.

So many faces, so many eyes. Fixed on us. I had been used to such attention before; people staring at my hideous face, my distorted body. However, it had hardly ever felt as awkward as it did now.

Hurriedly, the man set down the objects he held in hand, bowing down. "Prince Adrian," he said, flustered. "I--I'm sorry about the misunderstanding-- I thought you were--I apologize, my prince, profusely--If you should want anything to eat, I mean--"

Others began to bow down in mumbled acknowledgement. The majority, having never met with royalty before, tripped over themselves. "It's fine," Adrian said. "I apologize for intruding admist such an urgent hour." Quickly, he turned around, right at the moment the door had swung open, revealing a petite girl with carrots in hand. Pushing past her, he disappeared behind the door, muttering a faint apology.

I stood in shock for a moment before bowing out and following his lead.

But I couldn't forget about the way that girl with the carrots was staring at me. There was some kind of shocked expression lined within, as if she wanted to speak but couldn't find her voice or the words. The expression almost resembled one of... recognition?

I pushed the thought away. I was probably overthinking it; she was only staring at me out of horror of my appearance.

But even though I swear I've never seen that face before, it seemed that she did.

She recognized me.

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Just wondering. For a romance, would rather it be between Aquien and Sina or Adrian and Sina? I'm leaning toward Aquien and Sina, though Adrian and Sina is extremely probable, considering the next few plot twists. XD


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